


Coalesce

by wintershelter



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Episode: s02e08 The Chicago Way, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunion Fic, mick's depressive and suicidal tendencies, slight spoilers i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintershelter/pseuds/wintershelter
Summary: Coalesce: (v.) to come together, forming one mass or whole.
A coda for future episode 2x08, "The Chicago Way".





	

**Author's Note:**

> Third day, third fic during my unofficial "Mick Rory Deserves Better Week"! Without further ado, here's the type of reunion I would like for our favorite pair of criminals in 2x08.

Sitting alone in a bar wasn’t too uncommon for one, Mick Rory. Keeping his head low and downing his drinks in absolute silence… now that was uncommon.

The team was in Chicago circa 1927. It was during prohibition era but that was okay too. It really hadn't been too hard to find a speakeasy, so Mick was content to do his thing. The rest of the team were here doing something or other to stop another certain thing… To be honest, Mick really wasn't paying attention when they’d been discussing it.

Mick swallowed down another bitter shot, taking satisfaction as the burn hit the back of this throat. He toyed with the empty shot glass a moment before he set it down. He gave a nod to the bartender to serve him up another.

Mick hadn’t minded sitting this one out. They’d just gotten back from dealing with a bunch of aliens and it had taken a lot out of him. Well, that was a blatant lie. I mean, sure, Mick was tired, but not just because of the aliens. He was tired of this whole gig in general.

His heart hadn’t been in this for a while. And over the past few weeks, he’d spent more time drinking and spending time alone than being actively involved with missions. That wasn’t all his fault though. The team had been slowly excluding Mick from their plans for some time now and Mick wasn’t going to try and carve a place for himself. He knew the truth.

'A serial arsonist was never part of my plan to stop Savage, much less one with the IQ of meat.'

That simple sentence Rip had uttered all those lifetimes ago had hurt him. It had invoked such a rage inside him and he had wanted to burn him. He'd wanted to burn them all down for thinking that about him. He had hated Rip for saying it.

He hated this worse.

The team had never explicitly said anything remotely like that to him but Mick was good at reading people. He saw the way the team treated him like he was a burden; like he was a pet they just kept along because he was house-trained and had nowhere else to go. They all thought Mick was oblivious to the talking behind his back; he wasn’t. After the mission in the wild west, he was convinced that no one would care if he was onboard or had fucked off to live in whatever time period they’d landed in, just as long as he didn’t interfere with their plans.

Mick didn’t feel angry about all of this like he did with Rip though. He just felt so damn numb and that was the fault of a certain dead son-of-a-bitch.

If Len had just let Mick die when he’d intended to, everything would’ve been okay. Len had his place on the team. He would have fared fine, but Mick… Mick didn’t know how to deal with this.

“Stupid bastard.” Mick murmured, downing his shot in one go.

Mick felt someone step up to the bar to this left to order. Mick kept his head down, waiting for the man to get out of his space so he could wallow in peace.

The bartender set down two shot glasses full of amber liquid in front of the man, apparently giving him what he had asked for. One of them was slid Mick’s way.

Mick looked up to tell the guy to get lost and instead got lost himself.

Mick’s mouth dropped open as he stared into those crystal blue eyes. Mick was pretty sure he stopped breathing, saw his life flash before his eyes, and experienced every other damn cliché in the book because he was drunk but not that drunk and this guy looked a lot like-

“Len?” Mick whispered in disbelief.

Len picked up his own shot glass. “Drink first.” He commanded. 

Mick did, bewildered as he watched his partner do the same. Their glasses clinked against the grainy wood as they brought them down in unison.

Mick took his eyes off Len, because this was not Len. That man had died at the Vanishing Point. It didn’t matter how much this guy or hallucination looked like him. It wasn’t him. It wasn't real.

He felt his throat swell up and cleared it roughly. “Another.” Mick called out to the bartender.

Len waited until the bartender finished filling Mick’s glass before speaking again.

“I have a proposal for you, Mick.”

So, this was a hallucination then. The guy not only knew Mick’s name but there was no way anyone could ever replicate the way Len said his name.

“But, you’re dead.” Mick said. He really shouldn’t be indulging his overactive imagination but Mick was beyond caring.

“It did look like that, yes,” Len considered. “But, I was saved. You know, the Flash isn’t the only speedster in the universe. There are more and one who calls himself the Reverse Flash pulled me out before the explosion killed me at the Oculus.”

“So, you’re telling me you not only didn’t die, but you’ve been running around with a speedster?" Mick scoffed. "Try again."

“It’s the truth but I’m not here to argue about the past. I’ve been working with some people… people who have big plans: a vision. We’re almost there but we could use your expertise.”

Mick barked out a harsh laugh. 

“What?” Len asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nope, I can’t do this. I don’t know why my brain is doing this but I can’t.” Mick said.

It was one thing to share a drink with a hallucination but to make plans with it, to propose a future when he knew that Len would disappear soon, taking his hope with it... Mick would put himself through a lot but not that.

As he stood up from the bar stool, Len quickly reached out to grab Mick’s arm.

“I’m real.” Len implored.

“And how should I know that?” Mick asked.

“Because… you know me.” Len said quietly.

“I can’t take that risk. If you want me to come with you, you have to prove it. Prove you’re real.” Mick said.

“Fine. Thawne.” Len said.

Suddenly, the bar was a blur of yellow with flashes of red. The patrons and the bartenders all dropped like flies, their bodies thudding with finality on the sticky floor. It was over as soon as it had begun. A man in yellow came to stand a few feet away from them. A speedster, just like Len had said.

“Believe me now?” Len quipped, his familiar smirk resting on his face.

“You’re really here.” Mick managed to rasp out.

“I am and the offer still stands. You in?”

Mick had so many questions and there were so many unknowns but Len was here and alive and asking him to join him. Even if Mick had been on better terms with the team, he couldn’t have refused. It just wasn’t in his DNA where Len was concerned.

“Yeah, buddy, I am.” Mick rumbled.

Len's smirk grew wider and god, Mick had missed this man so much.

“We should go and meet up with the others.” Thawne said.

Len didn’t even spare him a glance, his eyes for Mick only. “We have all the time in the world. Besides, since you made me wait this long to come find Mick we have a lot of catching up to do. Now scram.”

He did, leaving in the same fashion he came. Mick and Len were now the sole occupants alive in the bar.

Without any prying eyes, Mick did exactly what he’d wanted to do since he’d realized that this was really Len. He kissed him. Hard. Len was no passive participant either, pushing back into Mick with equal fervor, each of them desperate after their agonizing time apart.

Mick broke away first, breathing ragged. “Lenny.”

“I know, Mick. I know.” Len breathed, chasing Mick’s lips and surging back in for another kiss. He pulled back and grabbed Mick’s face between his hand. He met Mick's eyes as he said, “I ain’t leaving you this time. No more of this self-sacrificing hero shit. Just you and me, partner.”

“And your new buddies, it seems.” Mick observed.

“They’re just a means to an end.” Len shrugged. “I didn’t have a time ship to chase you around with. A speedster was the next best thing to get me to you.”

“Awww, that’s really romantic, Lenny.” Mick teased.

Len chuckled. “I always said I’d come back for you, Mick. And I always have.” Len said, giving him a warm smile as he stroked the older man's cheek.

Mick felt a fondness for Len’s tender antics curl low in his gut. He leaned forward and fit his head in the crook of Len’s neck. Len wrapped his arms around Mick’s shoulders, holding him close.

“Just you and me, partner.” Mick repeated.

Len placed a kiss to Mick’s temple before leaning back into him. Mick inhaled, breathing in the scent of Len. He felt a calmness come over him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

These few months had been so damn hard. With no support from anyone and only alcohol to ease his pain, he’d become nothing short of recklessly suicidal. Len was one of the only things in his life that he cared about staying alive for and he knew that wasn’t healthy, but he’d long stopped seeing his shrink since stepping aboard the Waverider. Len was here and Mick ceased to care about anything that wasn't his partner.

They stayed entangled with each other for some time, each man drawing comfort from the prolonged contact. It didn’t matter that their old team would (maybe) come looking for Mick. It didn’t matter that they were now a part of a new team. The both of them were together and that was what mattered. Everything else could wait. Besides, they were time travelers after all… They had all the time in the world.


End file.
